


Not Horny

by katya1828



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crack, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Post-Devil Face Reveal to Chloe Decker, Protective Chloe Decker, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23562163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katya1828/pseuds/katya1828
Summary: Lucifer wakes up one morning to discover he has vile little horns—and the devil does NOT have horns! His Detective tries to comfort him and help, but she can’t help remembering *that* dream... (minor spoilers for s2e12, Love Handles.)Cute, cracky and fluffy Deckerstar, set in a S4 AU, where Chloe has come to terms with Lucifer’s devil identity without too much angst. In fact, this is about as un-angsty as my writing ever gets…From a prompt by Chris - Horns.
Relationships: Chloe Decker & Lucifer Morningstar, Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 26
Kudos: 153





	1. Chapter 1

Chloe knew something was very wrong, when the elevator reached Lucifer’s penthouse and the doors didn’t open. A “locked” symbol that she’d never even noticed before flashed red.

She rapped the metal doors with her knuckles. “Lucifer? Are you there? I got your call and came as quick as I could. Where have you been the past three days?”

After a beat, he answered. “Are you alone?”

“Yes, of course. Just as you asked.”

“Good. Linda is out of town, I couldn’t face Amenadiel, and Maze… I believe she’s with Linda, though I’ve a sneaky suspicion this _travesty_ might be her doing.”

Distress tinged his angry shouts, raising Chloe’s concern. The doors slid open, and she stepped out. Lucifer must’ve used some remote device to unlock the lift, as he was sitting on his couch, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. His long elegant fingers threaded through his silky bedhead hair and also betwixt… a decidedly goat-y looking pair of curving white horns.

Chloe’s fingers flew to her lips, disguising a shocked laugh, which shamed her instantly. She was only slightly less ashamed as the memory of _that_ dream, several years past, flashed back to her—that occasion her dream-world self had made sweet love with Lucifer, while clinging to a very similar pair of horny “love handles” to those he now sported. A blush percolated up her cheeks, but she couldn’t dwell on that now. As Lucifer lifted his face, she saw he could tip any moment into a volcanic eruption of fury… or despair.

“It’s a nightmare,” he moaned, sinking his face back into his palms. “They’re not mine. The devil has _never_ had horns, let alone these pathetic… goat-y things. But they won’t go away.”

“Lucifer, I’m so sorry.” She rushed to his side, biting hard into her bottom lip. Treacherous giggles beset her, though she no longer felt amused, and not only because he was so obviously distraught. Nothing about Lucifer’s devil form—or the many millennia of torture and self-loathing Lucifer’s father had inflicted on him—was in the slightest bit humorous, although she was coming to terms with it. Slowly.

She sat down beside him, and slid her hand onto his knee. He peeped at her sidelong with red-rimmed eyes. It didn’t look like he’d slept much in those three days he’d been holed up alone. Still, he gazed at her with hope. With expectation, even. But what could she, Chloe Decker, do about this latest supernatural bombshell, which the devil himself could not?

She had no idea, not yet, so she said, “It’s okay, Lucifer. We’ll find a way through this. We always do. What have you tried so far?”

“I sawed them off several times. Obviously. Hurt like the blazes, but then the ruddy things just sprang back again, like my stupid wings.”

She felt sick, her hand turning rigid on thigh; she gulped back her dismay, and squeezed him before pulling away. “Please don’t do that again. I hate it when you hurt yourself. But if they’re always growing back like that, maybe they are… I don’t know, some new phase of your devil form? Could this be your father’s doing?”

“My first thought exactly.” He sighed, and reached for a near empty whisky glass on the table, swigging the dregs. “But it doesn’t _feel_ like Dad. His gestures are normally more epic, grandiose, a reflection of his awesome pomposity.” He slammed down the glass and grasped his little horns. “These are just too silly, stubby… They’re bloody ridiculous.”

“I think they’re kind of cute.” The instant as her honest words escaped, Chloe hoped she wouldn’t live to regret them. _Cute_ veered a little close to sexy and attractive, and while, yeah, Lucifer was all of that and much more to her, she remained terrified of pushing the fragile boundaries of their friendship too far. Again. And sending one or the other of them running for the hills… Again.

Lucifer had narrowed his eyes to thin, inquisitorial slits. “Cute?” he said, icily.

“In a, uh… potently masculine, devilish way,” she clarified. “I’m pretty sure none of your admirers will _hate_ them.”

“Well, I do,” whined Lucifer. “And if Dad didn’t impose them on me, somebody else must’ve cursed me with them. The obvious suspect is Maze, but she’s with Linda on a girls’ outward-bound-spa-week.”

“What the heck is that?”

Lucifer raised his hands, despairing. “I have no idea. It’s most likely some form of new torture Maze is experimenting with. Point is, I’m stuck with them until at least Maze gets back and I can eviscerate her. And what if it isn’t Maze? What if I’m stuck with them forever? Oh… _Dad_!”

On this wrathful appeal toward heaven, he stomped off toward the bar, leaving Chloe to ponder the dilemma. “I’m not sure more alcohol is the answer,” she called. He gave her a withering look, and came back with a bottle of red wine and two large glasses.

He placed them down on the table, and poured a generous glass for each of them. Throwing caution to the wind, Chloe took a healthy swig. Lucifer always had the best vintages, and possibly this particular problem was best not pondered sober.

“I’m going insane stuck in this penthouse,” he said. “I can’t even go down to Lux.”

“You could wear a hat?” she suggested.

His withering look returned. “I haven’t commonly worn a hat since the 1940s, and I’ll put _that_ down to a rare fashion faux pas. And what self-respecting hat could cover these? It would have to be the size of a lampshade—I’d still look absurd.”

“Okay, but how about a short-term solution while we figure this out. You could hold a fancy-dress party at Lux.”

That withering look, which had taken up residence, retreated back toward frustrated despair.

“No, bear with me, Lucifer. I know the real devil doesn’t have horns, but thanks to… um, negative propaganda, loads of people think that you do. So… you could just go as _you_. And they’re really not as awful as you think they are. They don’t spoil your mojo in the slightest.”

“My mojo doesn’t work on you, so how do you know?”

“I said they looked cute, didn’t I?”

“I don’t _do_ cute.” He scowled into his wine glass, and it took a moment for her to catch his eye. When she did, his gaze softened slightly. She smiled encouragingly. “If I throw the fancy-dress party, will you come?” he asked.

“Of course.” She nodded emphatically. “In the meantime, I’ll try and get hold of Linda and Maze. Call me if you think of anything else that might’ve, uh, caused your problem.”

“And you’ll wear fancy dress too?” he called as she retreated toward the elevator.

“Yeah, okay.”

Lucifer, for the first time that day, managed a grin.

As the elevator closed, she drank in the sight of him, slouching against the back of the couch with the wine bottle. He looked rumpled, hot as hell, his attractiveness not diminished in the slightest by him being, well…. horny.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, gathering herself as the elevator descended, and the horrible truth struck. Of course, she didn’t want Lucifer like that forever…

…but, damn that silly dream! Some weird part of her adored those stumpy, little horns.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, this turned out fluffier than I even intended... ;) Hope you enjoy!

“Detective!”

Lucifer’s voice cut through the heavy bass beat that resounded through Lux. She caught sight of him on the far side of the club. As she’d predicted, his horns hadn’t diminished his mojo in the slightest.

Half a dozen women dangled from him, each clad in precariously scanty costumes. He was still twisting free of a clingy cave-girl, as he cut his way through the milieu toward her.

His smile, as so often, felt secret and just for her. “You came.” His voice felt secret too, quiet and only audible to her amid the din. He took her hands and admired her from arms’ length. “You look… beautiful. Who are you? I think I might recognize that costume. Very artistic… in a lurid 1980s kind of way.”

“It’s a long story.” Chloe laughed, glancing down at the blue chiffon drapery about her cleavage, and glad she’d worn her hair down. In this outfit, she needed all the extra covering she could get. “Trixie’s been doing Romans at school, so she wanted me to come as the Emperor Augustus—”

“He was a lot less ravishing than this, I can assure you,” said Lucifer. “And he didn’t go quite so heavy on the eye make-up.”

“I’m not an Emperor,” she said. “We tried making a toga from a bedsheet, and it looked ridiculous. But because of a mix-up when I moved out, I happened to have a box of Mom’s old movie costumes—”

“That’s it! You’re wearing the death-scene costume from Cleopatra in Space. I have to say, you fill it out every bit as splendidly as your Mum did.”

He twirled her around then tugged her close, one large hand catching around her waist. The fabric was so thin, it was as if he clasped her bare skin. For a few fleeting heartbeats, she leaned into his touch, and it seemed as if she floated, and he supported her whole weight there.

“Things didn’t go well with your Mum and the asp in _that_ particular scene.” He blessed her with a sparkling grin. “But I can promise you a much better experience, if you’d like ever to get up close and personal with _this_ Mr Snake-y.”

“Lucifer!” She righted herself, lightly slapping him off, but she was still laughing, and so was he. He doubted she looked that ravishing, but _he_ did, and it was absolutely nothing to do with his additional appendages. A nebulous warmth had returned to his eyes and smile tonight, blended with a glimmer of hopefulness she’d not espied for some time. Maybe since those early tentative “moments” between them, long before she knew his history; before she saw his devil face, before _everything_.

“Detective, you don’t have a drink. Tonight, that’s a criminal offence.” He passed her a glass of champagne, seemingly plucked from nowhere. She sipped it, as he swigged his down in one.

“So, have you made any progress with your, uh, horn problem?” she asked.

“Not really. I still can’t abide the things. They’re itchy around the roots, plus they make hairstyling a nightmare. I’m fairly sure it’s a curse, mind. At least all curses can be broken.” He sighed, his mood darkening. “I just hope it doesn’t take me as long to break this one, as it took that malefactor Cain to break his.”

“Absolutely,” agreed Chloe, taking her fifth, sixth… or maybe her seventh or eighth sip. The champagne was delicious, and her glass already nearly as empty as Lucifer’s. “Although, you know, I could get used to them… for a bit.” She smothered a hic in the back of her hand.

Whoops. The bubbles had decided to go straight to her head. She placed down her glass on the nearest ledge, and he placed down his.

“Detective, are you drunk?”

Chloe was beginning to regret not eating a bigger meal before she came out. She’d wolfed down half-a-round of cheese on toast for lunch, hours ago. After that, they’d been having too much fun with costumes, and she’d left Trixie’s tea for Dan to make.

“No, no, not at all.” She shook her head so insistently, she momentarily lost her balance, and she slammed her hand against the nearest solid object to steady herself.

Said object happened to be Lucifer’s chest.

“Clearly not.” He looped her wrist, holding her hand against him so gently that she could pull away if she wanted to. It proved very, very difficult to want to. She peeped up and caught his eye, and a glimpse of those horns. He didn’t pull her secret from her; he never could. But she _was_ suddenly overtaken by an overwhelming need to confess.

“I, uh… I had a dream once, in which you had horns, and we… uh…” She raised her brows to articulate the rest of the sentence, realizing she’d already gone too far. A delighted beam spread slowly across his face.

“You have a horn kink? Really, Detective, I had no idea you had _any_ kinks. This is wonderful news.”

She thudded him with her free hand. “I shouldn’t have said that,” she sighed, burying her face in the nearest solid object… which, of course, still happened to be Lucifer’s chest.

“I’m glad you did,” he said. Still smothered against him, she absorbed the vibrations of his voice. “As far as I’m concerned, the damned things can stay forever now.”

“Please, no.” She dared peep up. “They would be terribly inconvenient when we’re working a case.”

“True,” he said, serious now. And, as he held her loosely against him, the awesome gravity of the situation struck her.

The club around them seemed to vanish, and their gazes locked. His expression was utterly sincere, his manner somehow doubting and hesitant, his breaths accelerating in synchrony with her own. He parted his lips as if in silent question. Buoyed by pure instinct, she slipped one hand up to the back of his neck, rose onto tiptoes and kissed him.

The kiss was slow, perfect, shattering, and set the pit of her stomach into a wild swirl. They intensified it briefly, before a mutual breaking apart.

“Detective,” he breathed. “Chloe, I… ”

She rested her forehead against his shoulder, if just to recover her senses, so she could figure where to go from here. Although some non-sensical part of her never wished to move from exactly where she was, with her hand his cupping his neck, his hand clamped tight in the small of her back.

She looked up again, then gasped. “Lucifer—your horns. They’ve gone.”

“What?” Lucifer grabbed at his hair, where the horns had moments ago protruded. Meanwhile, an abrupt movement in peripheries of Chloe’s vision caught her attention. On the balcony, Maze jammed her knife down into the top of a wooden pillar and stomped off moodily.

“I’ll be right back.” Chloe squeezed the still startled Lucifer, and made chase.

She caught up with Maze on the street outside. “Maze, when did you get back?”

“None of your business,” snapped Maze.

“Lucifer’s horns are my business. They really upset him. Was that you?”

Maze turned about, arms folded belligerently. “Yeah, of course it was. I am beyond sick of you two mooning over each other and not getting it on, so I gave him horns. I mean, you have had a horn kink for, like, forever.”

“I have not! I only ever had one dream about them, and I don’t remember telling you.”

“Girl, you had literally dozens of dreams, moaning on and on about those stupid horns. Love handles, you started calling them. It wasn’t even funny after the first few times. My curse still went embarrassingly wrong, though, didn’t it?”

“How?” asked Chloe, clinging to any distraction from her burning cheeks and general humiliation. Seemed she scarcely knew her own secrets—or, at least, she hardly knew her subconscious self and its sneaky desires.

“The curse was supposed to be broken by you two _finally_ having sex. I guess it’ll teach me to curse while I’m thinking about torturing somebody else, and with cut-price ingredients. I can’t believe it was broken by a kiss of true love, though. Ugh! News of this had better not get out—it’s like a frickin’ fairy-tale. And I still haven’t gotten you two out of your ridiculous purgatory, so you better go wallow in your misery together.”

She flipped her hand dismissively, and stalked off.

A kiss… of true love. Chloe pressed her fingers to her lips, which still burned with the aftermath of _that_ kiss. She felt very sober again.

True love with Lucifer was a _lot_ to take it. And the scariest part was… the notion thrilled her as much as it terrified her.

Back in the club, Lucifer waited for her on a large couch. Two other handsome men had started moving in on him, but when he spotted her, he graciously dismissed them.

“It _was_ Maze.” She settled back next to him. He poured her another glass of champagne, but seemed strangely subdued. “She cursed you to… encourage us to get a little closer. She somehow knew I had a _thing_ for horns.”

He nodded, lips thinned. “Just like one of Dad’s tricks. Pushing me toward you, using something that’s not real.” He sniffed his champagne then popped it back on the table. “If you don’t mind, Detective, I think I’ll continue my drinking upstairs. After all, this is a fancy-dress party, and I’m no longer in fancy dress.”

“Lucifer, no.” The firmness of her words must’ve hit a nerve. He plied her with a cold, enquiring stare. “The horns were just a silly little fantasy. You… to me… you’re…”

Why was this sort of thing always so hard to say? She pressed her hand over his, where it rested on his knee.

“You’re a lot more than a fantasy to me, Lucifer. You’re my… here and now, and …” She swallowed hard; one or both of them were trembling, because the hand she’d pressed on his shook like a leaf. “And,” she continued, “there’s something else you need to know. Maze got the curse wrong, and it seems… It seems that your curse could only be broken by a kiss of true love.”

“That’s absurd.” Lucifer’s eyes stretched wide. He very nearly looked scared.

“Maybe it is. Or maybe we should… uh, just give it a chance. Give us a chance. Just check to see if it isn’t true. Perhaps… it really _was_ a kiss of true love? Is that so unbelievable?”

She started to feel silly, fearing she was prattling. Then very slowly, his icy demeanour melted. A smile quirked at the edges of his mouth. “Do you really mean that, Detective? I’m not sure the devil knows how to _do_ true love.”

She leaned in and kissed him again, sweetly and deeply, before pulling away and savouring her two new favourite tastes. Champagne and Lucifer. Or maybe she’d favoured the latter for a good while. She’d worry about the answer to that another time. She remained petrified of ruining their friendship, but despite the curse that’d pushed them to it, this “moment” didn’t feel contrived to her.

It felt wonderfully real.

She gazed into his dark eyes. They seemed to reflect back her soul, yet with a thousand-fold greater intensity—the same whirlpool of uncertainties and misgivings leavened by tenderness, and a desperate, yearning hope. Her breath caught in her throat. This _was_ happening, and now words came more easily.

“I really mean it,” she whispered, “with all my heart. And, Lucifer, I honestly believe you can _do_ true love, if you want to.”

_Believe me, I’m scared too._

He bit his lower lip, still mildly panicked, and remaining uncharacteristically silent. Then he took her hand, and together they wove between the sweaty hot clubbers, seeking somewhere quiet where they could be alone.

The End… for now ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)

**Author's Note:**

> I've joined twitter! If anybody wants to chat lucifer and fic I'm at @katysue1828. I'm not that good at knowing what to say (that's why I write fic, I guess) but I will try my best ;)


End file.
